Chapter 100: The Last Farewell

The next morning, Harry found Hermione fully recovered, sitting at the Gryffindor table eating breakfast, her complexion looking quite good.

“I’d like you both to come to my office later,” Donald said as he passed by Harry, “about what happened yesterday.”

Harry nodded, finished breakfast, and followed Ron and Neville, who knew the way well, to Donald’s office.

He knocked on the door; it opened, and everyone involved from yesterday was there except Zhang Qiu—Harry noticed Dumbledore was also present.

“Oh, good boy, you found the Chamber and killed the monster,” Dumbledore said with a smile, “twice.”

“Actually, when we reached the Chamber, the Basilisk was already dead,” Donald said. “What matters most is that Hermione was deeply wronged.”

“What interests me most is why you wanted to clean up the spiders,” Dumbledore said gently; Harry even felt he was comforting him.

"I thought that, at the very least, I had to get you back before anything else," Harry said, then realized he couldn’t reveal what had happened that night, "uh—he wrote me a letter saying that as long as the Chamber incident was resolved, even just on the surface, it would be enough to overturn the Board’s decision."

“I admit he’s right, Harry,” Dumbledore’s tone remained very soft, “but often, truth and appearance are equally important, aren’t they?”

“True, but for you, this was all part of the plan, wasn’t it?” Harry tried to catch Dumbledore’s gaze, but the reflection on his glasses obscured it.

“Merely fortuitous,” Dumbledore suddenly turned to Neville. “Mrs. Longbottom once said that if you wish hard enough, fate will stand by your side—correct, Neville?”

“It was merely a coincidence,” Dumbledore suddenly looked at Neville. “Your mother once said that if you wish it, fate will stand on your side—correct, Neville?”

“Oh, when she was still a little girl, she used to say those words all the time,” Dumbledore smiled. “I admire such character—it’s exactly what Gryffindor should embody.”

“I want to ask—suppose, I mean, suppose,” Neville said. “If I pulled out Gryffindor’s sword, does that mean the sword recognized me?”

“Of course. Only a true Gryffindor can wield that sword,” Dumbledore seemed to be recalling something. “If you found it by accident, it simply means fate destined you to use it.”

“By the way, Professor,” Harry couldn’t help asking, “is Ravenclaw’s diadem also hidden somewhere in the school, waiting for a student worthy enough to earn its recognition?”

He almost suspected Dumbledore had a habit of testing students—that the diadem and the staircase spell were trials set for Luna.

Donald’s expression changed visibly.

“I don’t know, Harry. I don’t know everything,” Dumbledore said. “In fact, even the Chamber and the Basilisk were only dealt with yesterday.”

“Professor Fontroy, do you know something?” Harry turned to Donald.

At that moment, a rapid knocking interrupted their conversation; Harry felt the people outside were about to smash the school’s door down.

“We’re the Federal Bureau of Investigation! Open the door!”

Dumbledore waved his wand; the door opened, and several tall, imposing wizards burst in, each pointing their wands at different directions.

“Calm down, gentlemen, calm down,” Dumbledore said calmly.

“Donald Fontroy, we’ve received a tip that you’re suspected of child pornography,” the lead wizard said. “You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in court. You have the right to an attorney. If you cannot afford one, we will provide one. Do you fully understand your rights?”

“He just gossiped about student couples!” Ron protested. “You’re not from the Ministry—you have no right to take away a Hogwarts professor!”

“Relax, Mr. Weasley. We’re enforcement officers under the Magical Congress. Think of us as American Aurors,” the lead wizard said. “Did he behave inappropriately toward you or your sister? The tip claims he repeatedly exposed his upper body at your home.”

“This is slander! You can’t just take away a good man…” Ron shouted indignantly.

“It’s a curse,” Donald laughed. “No one lasts a full year in this position—I’m no exception.”

Dumbledore still smiled. “I’ve cherished the time I spent with you, Mr. Fontroy. Compared to the tragic fates of previous professors, being falsely accused is mild.”

“Don’t worry, children,” Donald said, feigning ease. “I know plenty of top lawyers. Once I sort this out, I’ll be back.”

Hermione looked stunned, clutching her textbook tightly; after a long pause, she choked out, “I’ll miss you, Professor.”

“Me too—I really hope you come back soon,” Ron said, feeling her distress, and leaned closer to her as she swayed slightly.

“By the way, will Cui Ge be leaving with you?” Harry asked.

“Cui Ge wasn’t mentioned in the tip. Who is he? An accomplice?” the American wizard pressed aggressively.

“Cui Ge is Professor Fontroy’s nephew,” Dumbledore spoke up. Harry noticed fire once again flickered in his eyes. “If you’re concerned, Donald, I’ll take care of him. I’ll take care of all the children.”

“Fine. I’ll send you tuition and living expenses, maybe some small gifts and pocket money,” Donald frowned at the two American Aurors, who glared back defiantly.

“Let him stay at Hogwarts—he likes it here. I won’t be gone long dealing with this scandal.”

“The charges against you span over ten years, including chemical castration,” the lead American Auror said irritably.

Hermione couldn’t help collapsing against Ron’s shoulder and crying.

“Don’t cry, Hermione, don’t cry,” Donald panicked. “I’ll be back soon—next year, no, by fourth year, at most fifth year—I promise!”

“Don’t worry, children,” Dumbledore said. “Donald has many friends. I’ll write letters explaining everything.”

“Still, I think you’d better not take the Defense Against the Dark Arts position again—this curse is no easy thing to handle,” Dumbledore stood, patted Donald’s shoulder. “Take some time off in America. It’ll prevent the curse from worsening.”

“Gentlemen, you’d better be polite,” Dumbledore turned to the American Aurors. “Donald is a Hogwarts professor and my personal friend. I believe this is all a misunderstanding.”

“We’ll take your testimony, Mr. Dumbledore,” the Auror clearly lacked conviction.

“Before I go, let me answer your last question,” Donald turned back as he stepped out of the office. “Don’t try to find the diadem. Don’t even think of wearing it—or at least wait until seventh year. Believe me.”

“Understood, Professor. I’ll remember,” Harry said sincerely.

“He’s so kind… I’m crying so hard,” Hermione had buried her face in Ron’s shoulder.

“By the way, Professor, what do you mean by ‘curse’?” Neville asked.

“Oh, perhaps I might as well tell you,” Dumbledore sat back down. “Ever since Voldemort applied for this position and I refused him, he placed a curse on it—no Defense Against the Dark Arts professor has ever lasted a full year. I’ve been struggling to find the next one.”

Amid Harry and Neville’s awkward glances, Dumbledore reached out and patted their heads again. “You’ve grown so fast. Perhaps after graduation, I’ll invite you both to apply for this position.”

Amid Harry and Neville’s awkward glances, Dumbledore reached out again to pat their heads. “You’ve grown so fast—perhaps after graduation, I’ll invite you both to compete for this position.”

Harry couldn’t help laughing—he knew Dumbledore was joking.

“Alright, children, I must prepare for the farewell banquet,” Dumbledore winked with a smile. “You must comfort Hermione well—losing a beloved professor is truly heartbreaking.”

The remaining days of the term passed in a haze of bright sunlight; the exam week without exams made Ron exclaim, “This is the greatest invention ever!” They celebrated all night in pajamas, throwing endless parties in the common room.

Finally, the day of the House Cup came. Thanks to Harry’s outstanding performance in the Quidditch final, Gryffindor unquestionably took first place—even Slytherins admitted it, with several players openly saying, “Though we’re upset, we can’t find a single reason to object.”

Until the end-of-term feast, when Dumbledore stood, recited the scores, then winked slyly. “But there’s one thing we didn’t account for.”

“I understand that some students bravely stepped forward to resolve the Chamber of Secrets, a problem that plagued us for so long,” he said. “Harry Potter, Ron Weasley, Neville Longbottom, Hermione Granger, Ginny Weasley, Ivy Crowley, Hannah Abbott, Ernie Macmillan, Zhang Qiu, Luna Lovegood, Draco Malfoy, Pansy Parkinson, Vincent Crabbe, Gregory Goyle, Cui Ge Fontroy.”

After reading the long list, Dumbledore announced: “I am awarding two hundred points to each of these students’ Houses.”

In an instant, all four House hourglasses surged upward; every student in the Great Hall cheered. Harry noticed Malfoy, surrounded by Slytherins, grinning triumphantly.

After the joyful feast, Harry hastily packed his trunk, then rushed into the celebration. By the time he remembered one thing, he and Ron had already exchanged phone numbers and hugged goodbye.

“Oh, the diary’s still in my trunk,” Harry said as he placed the trunk in the car.

“It’s fine—leave it,” Ivy grinned. “Malfoy’s already forgotten about it.”

“But you can’t talk to Tom during summer vacation—using magical items off-campus is against the rules,” Harry said. “I’ll watch you… no, I’ll hide it somewhere no one can ever find.”

“But you can’t talk to Tom during the summer break—using magical items outside school is against the rules,” Harry said. “I’ll keep an eye on you… no, I’ll hide him myself, somewhere no one can ever find.”